Thursday, July 28, 2011


He used to walk the property at dusk;
now I do, too—not because he did,

but because I understand why. He
walked around the barnyard, observing,

checking things that mattered: his horses
in their stalls, a piece of siding missing

from the barn, the size of the hay supply,
water levels in the horses’ tanks, old tractor

in its bay, the horse trailer, the trucks.
I walk the front yard, seeing what is there:

the rose transplanted yesterday, another
planted days before, progress of the weeds,

soil softened by chipmunks, entrance
of the first iris buds, a bumblebee at rest,

the youngest cat stalking blades of grass
in the last light, unwilling to let the day go.


Eulalia Benejam Cobb said...

Beautiful, Susan. Thank you.

Indigo Bunting said...

Lovely. Sigh.

Anonymous said...

Beautiful, Susan.
Hauntingly descriptive - I felt as if I were walking with you and seeing what you saw...


Susan said...

Thank you. I wrote this a few springs ago. Now here we are with this year's spring behind us. Hard to believe it's August already.

crystal said...

It is beautiful. I thought you just wrote it ... "the youngest cat" :)

Susan said...

Crystal, thank you. That was Pogo. The current "youngest cat" isn't allowed out among the blades of grass. :-)

Dona said...


Susan said...

Thanks, Dona!

Helen said...

I love it Susan.

I also like your new photo...

Moderator said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Susan said...

Thanks, Helen. I was having a good hair day for a change. (When I took the picture, not when I wrote the poem.) :-)

Deloney said...

Really lovely, Suze. Most of us were blogging less (because of effing Facebook) so I stopped checking your blog very often. I'm out of Facebook now. It's an evil cult! But I'm blogging again. :-)

I read your post about that drug. I'm starting to have a great deal of sympathy for people who worry about "Big Pharma." --love to you as always